Ensconce

The Irish Bitch Is Back

Chapter Six

Jaycee

TT

I step into the clubhouse, practically seething. My blood boils beneath the surface, and I can feel my pulse in my temples. Why wasn't I informed that someone from Belfast, Fiona, was coming to Charming before they arrived? It's utterly ridiculous. Not just someone—her. The woman who's been a thorn in my side for as long as I've known her.

"Church!"

Chibs calls out from the hall, his voice carrying that weight of authority. He's smart. Probably knew I'd be pissed the moment I found out.

"Get a drink, babe. I'll be back soon," I toss over my shoulder to Tully, trying to keep my voice light even though I feel the tension radiating off me like heat waves. His eyes stay on me, concerned, but I don't look back. My emotions are spinning, and the last thing I need is a discussion about it before heading into the chapel.

I walk into the dimly lit room, and the air feels heavier than usual, almost suffocating. The smell of aged leather, oil, and faint traces of smoke fill my nostrils. Chibs is pacing, his boots making sharp clicks against the concrete floor. Tig sits at the table, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, tension evident in the way his fingers tap against his biceps. Happy leans against the wall, looking like a coil spring, his usual demeanor but somehow more... intense.

I take a seat and cross my arms, trying to steady myself. But damn it, these pregnancy hormones are doing a number on me. Everything feels ten times more potent. The irritation, the protectiveness—it all floods me at once, threatening to make me snap before the meeting even begins. And Fiona's presence? That feels like the cherry on top of this emotional sundae.

Deep down, I know that whatever unfolds in this chapel today could change everything for SAMCRO. The silence lingers, broken only by the soft creaks of the chairs as the guys shift uncomfortably in their seats.

Chibs' voice finally cuts through the tension like a blade. His tone is rough, urgent. "I got a late call from Kerrianne about a week ago, wantin' a real family Christmas this year, so I invited both of them."

My stomach tightens, and not just from Mya kicking. There it is—the crack in the dam I knew was coming.

"So if they're only here for the holiday, why do they need so much luggage?" I interject, unable to keep the sharpness out of my voice. Skepticism seeps into every word. I can feel my irritation bubbling to the surface, and it takes everything in me to stay seated, to not let my emotions completely take over.

"She isn't here to cause trouble," Chibs replies, trying to sound calm, but there's a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe.

I narrow my eyes. "But she is here to stay, right?" I press. My emotions are all over the damn place, and there's a sudden surge of protectiveness over everything we've built. Our home. Our family.

"Aye," he nods, avoiding my gaze this time.

"You see where I'd have an issue with this," I say, staring him down, my voice low but firm. The room goes even quieter.

Chibs rubs his hand over his jaw, clearly trying to tread carefully. "Aye, but ye've gotten yer pardon for Juice, so I figure ye owe me to keep it civil."

I can feel my teeth grinding. I hate that he's right. It's hard to forget everything I've done to get Juice back home—to get our family back on track. But just because I owe him doesn't mean I'm happy about it. I take a breath, controlling the anger rising in my chest.

"I don't know about civil... But you're right. I do owe you. I'll be nice... Until she crosses the inevitable line that's clearly drawn right in front of her," I say, making it clear that this grace period comes with an expiration date.